


Long Goodbye

by astro_noms



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Apocalypse, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2006-07-12
Updated: 2006-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astro_noms/pseuds/astro_noms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Yeah, just like on Buffy," Dean nodded. "The fucking hellmouths are opening, and the goddamned Scooby Gang is AWOL."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - In the End

In the end, not killing the demon – and almost dying in a moment of _oh my god what the fuck TRUCK?!_ – doesn't really matter.

In the end, Bobby finds them on the road, the crumpled body of the truck driver abandoned by the side of the road, fist-sized dents in the Impala's doors and roof – _turns the trunk into a lockbox_, Sam had said, but apparently it worked for the entire car, and thank God that the demon didn't think of setting the car on fire, for instance, roasting them all alive – and gets them to the hospital.

In the end, it takes five surgeries, three months of rehab, two steel rods and one steel plate between the three of them, but they eventually make it out of the hospital. Sam still uses crutches, and John's left leg will always twinge when the weather changes, but they're alive, and that's all that matters.

In the end, there's nothing for them to do anymore. Things die down – the number of possessions drops rapidly, any and all supernatural hijinks they may have expected from poltergeists, ghouls, any and all possible misfits stop completely. It's quiet – _too quiet_, they're all thinking, but none of them says it out loud. They check in with their friends and contacts, who are just as surprised and confused by it all.

In the end, after six months of walking on eggshells and sleeping with one eye open, they finally start to relax. Dean finishes rebuilding the Impala – _we can rebuild her, we have the technology, better than she was before, better, stronger, faster, shut the fuck up, Sammy, or so help me God…_ Then Sam checks his voice mail one day, and finds a message from Sarah, sounding ridiculously nervous, _hey, Sam, it's been a while, and you're probably off on another hunting trip with Dean, but if you ever come up this way, you could maybe…_ John just smiles, and Sam and Dean pack up the Impala, engraved, lined, and stuffed with several dozen different protection spells, amulets, and symbols engraved. They make John swear to stay in touch, make him swear that he'll come to them if he needs help, and they head east.

In the end, Dean leaves Sam in New Paltz – _sorry, man, I just can't take this lovey dovey crap anymore, I need a break_ – and hits the road. He disappears for two years, and only comes back when everything is about to fall apart. One night, in the middle of a spate of unusual weather patterns, just around Ryan's bath time, there is a soft knock at the door. Dean is pale in the porch light, his hair longer and more ragged, tattoos peeking out from under his t-shirt and the cuffs of his jacket, a long-haired girl of no more than five clinging to his neck as he holds her on his hip. _Emily's been having bad dreams_, he says. Sam nods and stands aside to let them in. _Yeah. So have I_. There have been several messages from John, ranging from _just checking to see you're all right_ to _I'm not sure about this yet, but…_ to _Sam, maybe you should bring Sarah and Ryan out here…_

In the end, after three years of relative peace and quiet, of being sons and brothers and boyfriends and husbands and fathers and uncles and grandfathers, it all ends the same way it started – in blood and fire, tears and screams, and sitting on the hood of a car, watching their lives turn to ash, clutching children to their chests.

In the end, it's not really the end. And as a movie once said, it's not even the beginning of the end. It's just the end of the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

Later, there would be time for questions and phone calls and recriminations and guilt. Right now, there was Emily, curled up on the bed, Ryan enfolded in her arms. Sam and Dean watched their children sleep, both remembering their own childhoods, but neither one of them said a word, because there wasn't any need to.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Dean said in almost a whisper, but apparently still too loud because Sam flinched at the sound of his voice. "I'm so sorry

Sam stared at the kids, eyeing Emily. He opened his mouth to speak, but Dean answered the question before was even asked

"A year before I came to get you. I guess I wasn't as careful as I thought. Passed through town again about six months ago, and found out about her. Carly didn't object when I suggested I take Emily with me, especially since she freaked out when Emily told her I was coming two weeks before I got there." Dean grinned and sat down on the empty bed, scratching at his neck, the tattoos on his arms twisting briefly like twining vines. "Apparently she'd been doing that for a while. Seemed like the thing to do, taking her with me."

"Was this legal? I mean, what if someone comes looking for her?"

"Relax, Sam," Dean waved his concern off. "It's all good. Carly signed the papers, everything's taken care of."

Emily stirred in her sleep and opened her eyes, craning her head to look at them, not letting go of Ryan at all.

"Daddy?"

"Right here, kiddo," Dean got up and took the two steps required to get to the kids' bed and sat down. He ruffled her hair and smiled down at her. "Everything OK?"

She shook her head. "Can Ryan and me sleep with you and Uncle Sammy tonight?"

Dean looked up at Sam and cocked an eyebrow. "What do you think, Sam, can we all fit on that bed?"

Sam grinned. "The kids don't take up that much room, and it's not like we haven't slept in the same bed before." There was a moment where their eyes met and unspoken words flew between them. The moment passed and they moved wordlessly, Sam walking around to Ryan's side of the bed, and Dean pulling up the blanket so he could get under it. Dean wrapped his arms around Emily, Sam did the same with Ryan, and their hands met in the middle.

Three hours later, Dean's cell phone rang, startling them out of a careful, child-encompassing embrace.

Dean answered the phone in the dark, speaking quietly so he didn't disturb the kids – Sam was already awake, one hand hovering protectively over Ryan and Emily, the other rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Dad?"

"Turn on your TV," John told him without any preamble. Dean switched the phone to his other hand and reached for the remote. There was a news ticker scrolling across the bottom of the screen – STATE OF EMERGENCY DECLARED STAY TUNED FOR FURTHER INFORMATION--PEOPLE ADVISED TO STAY INDOORS – while the newscaster, looking harried and freaked out, stuttered through the report.

"There are unconfirmed reports of massive explosions, possibly nuclear in nature, but as of this time, we can neither confirm or deny them. The District of Columbia, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and most of the Eastern seaboard remain unreachable, as do some other major cities throughout the country. This is not only a local or a regional phenomenon. Other cities are under sie-"

Dean flipped the channel, and a slightly different news ticker scrolled across, bearing the same basic message – emergency, stay home, wait for instructions. Another channel, another report, again and again.

"Sam," he said, turning the TV off. "Get the kids dressed, we're getting the hell out of here." He lifted the phone to his ear again. "Dad? Where are you?"

"Lawrence," John told him, and Dean was actually not surprised. "Get here as fast as you can."

"Yes, sir," Dean answered instinctively before he hung up the phone. Saw had already packed everything and had the baby bag slung over his shoulder. Dean woke up Emily and handed her a jacket. Sam bundled Ryan up into a blanket and they were ready to go.

"What did Dad say?"

"Said to get our asses to Lawrence as fast as we can. It's starting."

_Duh,_ Sam thought. _I could have told you that a month ago. Hell, Emily probably_ told _you a month ago, and it took you this long to get it into your head that you couldn't do this alone, not with a five year old daughter in tow._ He didn't say anything, instead heading out to the car, checking that Ryan's car seat was secure in the back seat, and buckling both children in. The baby bag went on the floor in the back, the rest of their bags in the trunk, just like before.

And then, without speaking so much as a word, they were gone, leaving the ruined ashes of Sam's "safe" life behind, and heading into the dark of the night and the coming days. Heading west, back to Dad. Back to Lawrence. Home.

***

It took about two hours – just around the time they passed Wilkes-Barre – for the reality of what had happened in the last twelve hours to hit Sam. One moment, he was flipping through radio stations, trying to find news more detailed than the _stay in your homes, do not go outside, wait for further instructions_ that panicked late night hosts were repeating over and over again, and the next, he was curled up in his seat, rubbing his wedding ring over and over again, staring blankly into space.

"Sarah said we should stay," he said, his voice quiet and lifeless. "I told her about the dreams, and the signs, and what might happen." He rubbed his hands over his face, not bothering to hide that he was wiping away tears. Dean glanced at him, but had no idea what to say, so he just kept driving. Sam went back to staring out the window and rubbing his ring. "I told her, and she said we should stay."

"Sam, this isn't your fault," Dean said, recognizing the signs of Sam-guilt.

"I should have made her leave. I should have packed the car and taken her and Ryan to Dad." His voice hitched, and Sam started to sob. "Oh, God, Dean! It was there! The demon was there, in Ryan's nursery. It just—" He trailed off, thinking back. The sudden silence made Dean glance at Sam nervously, and then Sam made a speculative "huh" noise that made Dean want to pull the car over so he could shake whatever it was Sam had thought of out of him. Instead, he kept driving and settled for the obvious question.

"What is it, Sam?"

"Mom and Jess, and Max's mom, they all died the same way. On the... on the ceiling, above the bed."

"Yeah. All the incidents we've found, they were all like that. What are you getting at?"

"Sarah…" Sam choked back a quiet sob. "The demon didn't put Sarah on the ceiling. It just killed her. She was on… On the floor, beside Ryan's crib. It didn't come after her like it came after Mom, or Jess." Sam clenched his fists in frustration. After things quieted down, they let themselves get complacent, stopped researching things, never actually tried to find out what the demon's plan was. "It killed her because of me. Not because she was in the way, like Mom, or Jess, but because she was my wife."

Dean suddenly scrambled for his phone. He dialed a number with shaking fingers, cursing as the recording informed him that _all circuits are currently busy, will you please try again later._

"Who are you calling? Carly?"

"Fuck." Dean hung up, dialed again, and got the same recording. "Fuck," he swore again.

"Give me the phone," Sam said. "You keep driving, I'll keep trying, OK?"

Dean wiped a hand over his face and nodded, handing over the phone.

"Yeah, OK."

***

By this time, the eastern sky behind them was brightening, but it had a strangely red tinge to it. Sam glanced at his watch, and was surprised to see that it was already almost 7am. Eight hours ago, he'd had a good life, full of everything he'd ever wanted. Now, all he had was a dead wife left behind in a burning house, the clothes and weapons in the trunk, and the people in the car with him.

Strangely enough, as much as losing Sarah hurt – and it hurt like hell, he wouldn't lie – he could already feel himself slipping back into the old life. Things were different, no question about that – he only had to look in the back seat to see just how different – but the basics were the same. Get in, do the job, get out, and move on, staying one step ahead of trouble.

He dialed the phone again, getting the same busy circuits message. The radio wasn't any more helpful now than it was two hours ago – scattered reports of people disappearing and strange creatures wandering the streets making up the majority of the broadcasts. A call-in talk show ran on one station, with people reporting everything from alien abductions to Bigfoot sightings.

Then a man called in, talking about his wife's all-black eyes and how she somehow managed to throw him through the wall before walking out wearing nothing but a see-through nightie.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, sharing the unspoken thought: possession. Dean turned the volume up and they listened as the calls started to pour in. A woman in Oregon, whose husband's eyes turned black as he was making love to her, and who walked out of the house, pausing only to pull on a pair of pants. Another woman, this one from Sacramento, whose roommate slipped and fell down the basement stairs only to get up, readjust her twisted neck, and walk out of the house. A couple in Texas, whose twin daughters beat their father to within an inch of his life when he tried to stop them from leaving. The calls kept pouring in, from all over the country. Finally, the host of the show came on the air.

"You heard it, folks, Something is going on, all over the place. And from what we hear from the news agencies, this is not a local or a regional phenomenon. We've had reports from Canada, Europe and Australia. While we don't have any details, it seems safe to assume this: these are not your friends or neighbors. Not anymore."

Dean turned off the radio with an angry flick of his fingers.

"Fuck. They're building an army, they're going to war. How the hell are we supposed to deal with this, Sam? Where do we even start?"

"I don't think we're supposed to even try," Sam said. "This is way too big for us." He glanced at Dean, taking in the dark circles under Dean's eyes, and the way he was clenching his hands on the steering wheel. "Pull over," he said. "You need to get some rest, before you run us off the road and kill us all. Besides," he glanced back at Ryan, who was starting to wake up, "I have to feed Ryan."

"Okay," Dean nodded, and pointed out the _food gas restrooms 5 miles_ sign they were passing. "How does that look?"

It was probably going to be one of those gas stations straight out of a horror movie, Sam thought, with some sort of shady character lurking in the shadows, but with the life they'd led, they'd probably fit right in.

Five minutes later, Dean pulled off the road and sure enough, it was a rickety little shack with a hand-lettered sign hanging on a half-rusted chain. There was something that was probably supposed to be a convenience store, but unless they absolutely had to, Sam decided he didn't want to try going inside. Hell, the building would probably collapse around them if they did. Instead, he got out and opened the back door. Ryan reached for him and Sam smiled at the happy gurgling sounds coming from his son. The smile froze on his face when he thought about Sarah, about how she'd never watch Ryan smile, never see him grow up, never— He shook his head to break that train of thought and focused on the present. There was a portable bottle warmer in the bag, he just had to grab it first, and then he could feed Ryan. Hopefully, they wouldn't have to stop too many times – Ryan had always been good about sleeping through car trips, but Sam didn't delude himself into thinking that they could just drive straight through to Lawrence.

Ryan reached out for the bottle as soon as Sam had it ready and drank without a fuss. Dean opened Emily's door and woke her gently, laughing as she batted at his hands to get him to leave her alone.

"Come on, Em. Time to stretch your legs a bit. Do you need to use the bathroom?" She shook her head and Dean shook his as well. "Yeah, I know how it is. We'll pull out of here, and fifteen minutes later you'll be saying you have to pee."

Emily climbed out of the car and eyed the gas station dubiously. Craning her head up to look at Dean, she grimaced. "Can I just pee in the bushes?"

Both Sam and Dean laughed at that, and Dean motioned Emily towards the bushes off to the side. "Stay in sight," he told her, and Sam forced himself not to laugh at the familiar way she rolled her eyes and skipped off to the clumps of bushes Dean pointed at.

Ryan finished off his bottle, and Sam burped him, changed his diaper, and bundled him back into the car seat, just as Ryan was falling asleep again. Sam felt his own stomach rumble and eyed the store, then turned to Dean.

"I don't suppose you have any food, do you?"

Dean grinned and reached into the trunk, coming up with a bag full of chips, jerky, and various other snacks. It wasn't quite what Sam had in mind, but given that they'd been there almost half an hour and had yet to see any sign of life from inside the store, anything that let him avoid going in there was good.

Five minutes later, Emily was buckled into her seat – Sam had a feeling it would take him a while to get used to the sight of the Impala with two car seats in the back – Sam and Dean had both made quick trips into the bushes, and they were back on the road. Sam was driving this time, to let Dean get some shut-eye. There was still nothing on the radio beyond the same confused babbling, and he turned it off. Dean's tape collection was under the passenger seat, but Sam didn't feel like music.

Dean curled up against the passenger door, put on his sunglasses, then looked at Sam over the top. "Just like old times, huh, Sammy?"

"Yeah." Sam glanced into the rearview mirror, where he could see both children, and above them, the read window, showing the sky, the red light fading but still visible. "Just like old times."

Dean fell asleep after that, and Sam drove in silence for another hour and a half, pulling over when Ryan woke up and started fussing. He was kind of glad Dean was asleep, otherwise he'd never hear the end of it for changing diapers on the trunk of the car. After that, it was a quiet drive again, for another two hours and then, just when they were somewhere around Akron, Sam nearly drove the Impala into a ditch as blinding pain shot through his temples. It was just about then that Emma woke up and started screaming, too.

Dean woke up just in time to grab the wheel and stop them from ending up in the ditch. "Sam! Pull over!"

Gritting his teeth against the pain and noise – two children screaming now, since Ryan was also awake, and freaking out – Sam slowed down and pulled over. Then he got the door open and stumbled out of the car, falling to his knees, and throwing up the two pepperoni sticks he ate before. Dean was out of the car a couple of seconds later, sliding over the hood, and then pulling Sam up to his feet and away from the puddle of puke. Sam took three steps and stumbled, going down to his knees again, clutching at his temples.

"Sam! Sammy! Look at me! Listen!" Dean shook Sam, hard, until Sam looked up at him. "You have to focus, Sam. You've got to shield yourself. Please tell me you still remember how to do that." Dean got up and reached into the car, stretching across the front seat. He dug around in the glove box for a minute and then pulled out a silver triangular pendant on a black leather cord. Back outside, he pulled the cord over Sam's head and opened Sam's shirt so that the metal touched skin. Dean laid his hand flat over the amulet and muttered a few words in Latin, feeling his tattoos tingle as the spell activated.

Sam breathed a bit easier as a gentle heat spread from his chest into his whole body. It still felt like there was someone – or something? – trying to get into his head, but now the noise had been reduced to the mindless hum of television static, and the pain was down to a dull pounding.

"What the hell is that?" He asked, but Dean didn't answer as he walked to Emily's door and opened it. He had Em in his arms in three seconds flat, and the moment he touched her, she stopped screaming. She was still crying, but at least not screaming anymore.

"Fucking Cleveland," Dean hissed through clenched teeth, holding Emily close to him as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. "It's the goddamned hellmouth, that's what it is."

"A hellmouth? You mean like on Buffy?" Sam got to his feet and went around the car to get Ryan out of his car seat. Ryan had stopped crying now, but he still clung to Sam.

"Yeah, just like on Buffy," Dean nodded. "The fucking hellmouths are opening, and the goddamned Scooby Gang is AWOL."

"What did you do to me back there?" Sam asked. He reached into his shirt and started to pull the pendant out, but Dean stopped him.

"Don't. If it leaves your skin, you'll be open to attack again. And I don't want to have to fix the spell so soon after."

"Dean, what did you do?" Ryan was calm now, and Sam put him back in the car seat. He wanted to get away from Cleveland and its hellmouth or whatever the hell it was that was making him feel like his _brain_ was itching, and just get on the road again.

"Protection spell," Dean shrugged. "Nothing special."

"Like hell it's not. Where did you learn to do that?" Dean shrugged again and put Emily back in her car seat. She whimpered a little as he let go of her, and he wrapped a hand around her wrist, the one with the pretty amber and jade bracelet, and whispered something into her ear. After that, she quieted down, and leaned back with her eyes closed.

"Jesus, Dean," Sam breathed, watching from the door. "One of these days, you'll have to tell me where you went and what you did for the two years you were gone."

"One of these days," Dean nodded, staring off into the distance. "But not today, Sammy. Get your ass back in the car. We've got to make tracks, I don't like being this close to Cleveland."

"You and me both," Sam muttered, and got into the passenger seat. He twisted around to check on Ryan and Emily, but amazingly enough, they were both asleep again.

***

Mercifully, the rest of the trip went by quickly and quietly. Dean finally managed to get through to Carly around noon – _I told you not to call me anymore, Dean_ and _I know, I just… just take care of yourself, OK?_ and _how's Emily? is she still...?_ and _yeah, she is,_ and then a click and silence on the line. He put the phone away, and looked over at Emily's reflection in the rearview mirror, her hair blowing in the gentle breeze from the slightly open window.

Sam watched Dean after the phone call and saw, perhaps for the first time since Dean came back into his life, just how _tired_ his brother looked. Something happened to him in the two years he was gone. Something that made him even more closed off and guarded than he used to be. Something that gave him tattoos over a large portion of his body, something that made him able to cast spells with no more effort than breathing. Something that made him a father, willing to go to any lengths to protect his daughter. And as Dean glanced into the mirror to look at Emily, Sam saw the lines on Dean's face smooth out, just a little bit. Fatherhood agreed with Dean, that much was obvious.

After the call to Carly, Dean was quiet, and Sam followed suit and didn't talk either. They drove, stopped to feed the kids and change Ryan, then kept driving again, switching drivers now and then. Dean pushed the Impala to top speeds and they reached Lawrence just before midnight. Sam called John to find out where they should go and got the directions to a small motel on the edge of town.

John was waiting in the parking lot when they pulled in, watching for them expectantly. He'd met neither of his grandchildren – Sam wasn't even sure he knew about Emily – and he hadn't seen his sons in over two years, so the hesitation in his eyes wasn't surprising.

Sam was first out of the car and across the parking lot. Before John can could anything, Sam had him in a tight embrace that had them both desperately clinging to each other in seconds. The warmth of his father's hug was more comforting to Sam than any words John could speak.

"Sam, I…" John looked into the car, as if he's hoping that maybe Sarah was with them after all. Then, before he could say anything else, Dean was beside him and pulling him into a hug. After they pulled apart, John kept his hold on Dean and took a long look at his son. He took in the longer hair, the intricate tattoos twined around Dean's neck, the tired – and not just because of the long drive – eyes, and reached out to Sam, pulling him closer so he could hug them both at the same time.

"Let's get you inside. Lawrence hasn't seen too much trouble since all this started, but we shouldn't push our luck, either."

Sam and Dean retrieved the children, and John grabbed their bags. He'd booked them adjoining rooms, and as they settled the children on one of the beds, something in his heart twisted painfully at the sight of Emily pulling Ryan close to her, even in her sleep, one arm thrown over him.

"How long has she been doing that?"

"Just since yesterday," Dean said. "When we checked into the motel after… When we got them settled in, she just pulled him close."

"Takes after her father," Sam smiled. "I remember when we slept like that."

"Dean used to crawl into your crib when you were just a little older than Ryan. It was a few years after that until he stopped." They stood there in silence, watching the children sleep, and then John picked up a canister of salt from the table and laid a careful circle around the kids' bed. Circle done, he motioned them into the other bedroom. "We need to talk."

"They're done waiting around, aren't they?" Sam had always been the one with the gift for understatement, but this time, there was nothing else to say.

John nodded. "Everywhere, every place in the world with the least bit of a supernatural nature, it's become a hotspot in the last twenty four hours. You listened to the radio?" Both Sam and Dean nodded. "All those possessions, if I'm right, all those people had mothers who died just like your mother did. Special children, with special gifts. And when their mothers died, they grew up damaged. Weakened, vulnerable to possession.

"So what do we do?" Dean asked. "Where do we start?"

"We don't," John's reply surprised even Sam, even though he was half-expecting it. After all, what could the three of them do against an evil big enough to spread over the whole planet? They needed to hole up somewhere and regroup, put together an army of their own. Sam looked to Dean, whose clenched fists were so tight they were turning white.

"Dean, can you get in touch with the… the person who taught you?"

Dean shook his head. "I, uh, I don't think so."

"You don't think so, or you know for sure?" John asked. "Dean we could use everyone we can get."

"Don't you think I know that?" Dean snapped. "I can't, OK? Just… trust me."

"OK," Sam jumped in to defuse the sudden tension. "Who's next? Missouri? Bobby? More contacts? Hunters? We'll need a place to set up as a base."

"I can help with that," a voice said from the doorway. Sam and Dean both sprang into action, hands going to the guns they'd both tucked into their waistbands somewhere around halfway through their trip. They moved as one – Dean moving to stand between the newcomer and John, Sam moving in front of the door to the second bedroom.

"Oh, please," the lanky red-haired man in a wheelchair said. "If I'd want to, I could have taken all of you while you were chit-chatting. John, I thought you'd trained them better than to leave their backs to the door."

Dean frowned at the criticism of his father and of him and Sam, and brought his gun up until he was aiming it straight at the man's head.

"Dad? Who is this clown?"

"Dean, stand down." John's voice was sharp and stern, leaving no room for an argument. When Dean hesitated, John simply walked in front of him and used his hand to push the gun down. "I said, stand down. You too, Sam," he added without looking in Sam's direction.

Dean glared at the newcomer, who merely smirked back at him, and put up his gun. Sam let out the breath he'd been holding and lowered his gun as well. His arms were beginning to ache from holding the gun at arm's length and he made a mental note to put in some time with target practice, if only to avoid Dean's comments about the domestic life having made him soft.

"Still waiting for the introduction, here," Dean growled. The rough and dangerous effect was pretty much ruined by the grudging "sir" he added when John glared at him.

"This is Orrin Hawkes. He's been helping me set things up. We've been getting rumors and signs for a couple months now, that something big was coming."

"Big like an invasion from hell, or big like the Eastern seaboard and who knows how many other places in the world getting nuked?" Dean asked.

"We weren't expecting them to hit the cities using our own weapons," Orrin said, rolling his wheelchair forward, "but really, when you think about it, what better way to paralyze us? Take out the governments, make everyone paranoid about who's attacking, throw the entire damned planet into chaos."

"Hell of a plan," Sam said. "Literally."

"So what's the plan with getting a base of operations set up?" Dean asked.

"That's why I'm late," Orrin said. "I had to make sure my information was correct. "All military personnel at Fort Riley are being transferred to Leavenworth. Riley's going to be sitting empty. A guy I know who works at the museum there says it'd make a good base for us."

"How reliable is this guy?" Sam asked. "I mean, it sounds great, but we don't really want to move in and get settled only to have someone try and kick us out."

"Sam, the military is going to have their hands full dealing with whatever the demons throw at us on a large scale. The chances of them coming back to reclaim an old base that's been turned into a museum are slim to non." Orrin reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a key ring with about twenty keys on it. "We can move in whenever you're ready."

Dean grinned. "Peachy. How about in the morning, after we've all had some sleep?" Without waiting for an answer, he started toward the second room. When he was near Orrin, he looked down at the numerous amulets Orrin was wearing around his neck. "Love the look, Orrin. Sort of early Mr. T, the white and nerdy edition."

Orrin grinned up at him. "Don't knock it till you try it, boy."

"I prefer a more permanent method of protection," Dean said. "To each his own, though, I suppose." He crouched down beside Orrin, speaking quietly, pitching his voice so only Orrin would hear. "Any chance you could find some good ones for Sam and the kids? They're too young for tattoos, and Sam... Well, I don't think he'd go for them."

"Actually, I kind of like the idea," Sam said in Dean's ear, making Dean lose his balance and fall on his ass. "The main problem right now would be finding a tattoo artist who could be trusted to do it the way we wanted." He glanced at Dean and stood up. "I'm assuming blessed ink and spelled instruments?"

Dean got up to his feet and glared at Sam. "Yeah. Hurt like a bitch, too. You sure you could handle that much pain, Sammy?" He ducked Sam's swipe at his head. "I'd take you to where I had mine done, but, well, I'm not sure if it's still standing." He turned back to Orrin. "We'd both appreciate it if you could come up with something for the kids. I've done what I can for Emily, and Ryan seems to be OK, but that could change at any time."

Orrin nodded. "I'll see what I can come up with, bring it by tomorrow. We'll make a run up to Riley in the morning, and then take a look at that car of yours."

Sam glanced at Dean, expecting a violent reaction, but was disappointed, because Dean merely nodded and yawned.

"Good idea. It's better protected than it was before the wreck, but it needs to be armored up." He yawned again, and Sam found himself following suit and yawning as well. "You can tell us about it tomorrow. Come on, Sam, let's go." With barely a glance in John's direction, Dean headed into the second room. Sam lagged behind for a moment, then nodded to John and followed Dean, locking the door behind them. Emily and Ryan were asleep on the bed they'd put them down on, and without having to discuss it, Sam and Dean took the second, falling asleep within moments of their heads hitting the pillows.

***

When Sam woke up the next morning, he gripped Dean's shoulder in a panic.

"Dean, wake up! They're gone!" He shook Dean awake and then bolted out of bed. The kids' bed was empty, the covers thrown back haphazardly. Dean was on his feet, grabbing for a gun, when they heard high-pitched giggling from the next room.

The breath Sam let out was explosive, and he slumped onto the kids' bed, hiding his face in his hands.

"Nice going, Sammy," Dean glared at him.

"Hey, it's not like you didn't panic, too," Sam pointed out. "Let's go see what they're doing." They got dressed, headed into John's room, and stood gaping in the doorway.

John had Emily in his arms, twirling her high in the air, making her shriek with laughter. Every time he put her down, she stretched out her arms up to him, yelling "Again, grandpa, again!" and every time, John picked her up and twirled her again, a big grin on his face.

Sam watched the scene with an odd ache in his heart. This must have been what it was like when Dean was little, when Sam himself was still an infant.

He spotted Ryan in his car seat, sitting on John's bed, gurgling to himself as he chewed on a rattle. Sam frowned, not recognizing the toy, and started to cross the room to take it from Ryan when John spoke.

"Orrin dropped it off this morning. The rattle itself is blessed three ways from Sunday, and it's filled with protective charms."

Emily broke away from John when he set her down and ran to Dean, holding up her arm, where a dozen or so bangles jingled with her every move.

"Daddy, daddy, lookit!" She held up her arm for Dean to inspect, and he bent over it, dutifully examining it. The bangles, varied in width and color, were all engraved with protective symbols and phrases.

"Uncle Orrin gave them to me," Emily announced proudly. "He said that a pretty girl should have pretty bracelets."

"And he was absolutely right, sweetheart," Dean told her. "Wasn't he, Sam?" He glanced up at Sam, who knelt beside Emily, taking the hand she thrust at him and peering at the bracelets.

"He sure was," Sam told her, watching her beam with pride. When he looked up, John was standing by the window, holding Ryan in his arms, talking to him quietly. Sam nudged Dean, who glanced up and grinned.

"Okay, grandpa, what's the plan for today?"

John grinned back at them. "I never thought I'd actually get to be a grandpa, not to mention twice over." He bounced Ryan up in the air, and watched him giggle. "Angela will be here soon, she'll watch the kids. As soon as Orrin gets back, we'll head up to Riley and check things out.

Sam and Dean spoke in unison. "Who's Angela?"

Before John could answer, although with plenty of time for him to almost blush and look away from Sam and Dean, the door opened and a woman came into the room. She got about three steps inside and stopped dead at the sight of John bouncing Ryan.

"John, honey, you should have told me your boys were coming," she said. "I would have made us all a nice dinner." she got over her surprise and closed in on Dean. Before he knew it, she'd planted a kiss on his cheek and enveloped him in a hug. "You must be Dean," she said when she let go of him. "John's told me a lot about you, boys, but he didn't mention how good looking you were." She eyed Dean with a speculative look. "You know, if your daddy there hadn't already won me with his charms..." She grinned at him and laughed when he cast a nervous and furtive look at John, who was grinning as well.

Angela turned to Sam and exaggerated craning her head up to look at him. "And this handsome young giant must be Sam, then." She held out a hand to him, and he enveloped it in his. She looked down at her hand, almost entirely covered in his, laughed a deep throaty laugh, and pulled him into a hug.

"Boys," John cleared his throat. "This is Angela Pryce. Angela, these are my boys."

"Daddy," Emily called to Dean. "Is this our grandma?" She eyed Angela curiously.

Dean gaped and Angela burst out laughing. She knelt down to look Emily in the eye. "I don't know about grandma, sweetheart, but you can call me Aunt Angela if you'd like."

Emily looked up at John, who nodded. "Aunt Angela is just fine, I think."

"That's settled, then," Angela stood up and brushed a strand of her hair behind an ear. "Have y'all eaten breakfast yet?"

John opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't get a chance as Emily shook her head and Angela noticed.

"Good Lord, John, why aren't you feeding these children?"

John, Dean, and Sam all started to protest her accusation, speaking over each other, but Angela waved her hands to shut them up.

"All right, all right, we'll let it go, just this once. You boys have plans for the day?" She glanced at John, and he nodded. "Well, get to it, then. I'll take care of these two, make sure they get fed."

Dean knelt beside Emily and took her hands in his. "Okay, kiddo?" She nodded and grinned. "I have to go and take care of some things with grandpa and uncle Sam. Aunt Angela's going to stay with you and Ryan. I want you to make sure you behave yourself, got it?"

Emily nodded solemnly. "I will, Daddy. Me an' Ryan are gonna be real good, I promise."

Dean got to his feet and turned to Angela. "There's bags with their stuff in the next room. Em's gonna need a nap," he grinned as Emily's "Daddy! You said I didn't have to anymore!" rang out in protest, and kept going. "Em's gonna need a nap, because she might need to help us tonight, but if she's too tired, she won't be able to stay up with us." Emily made a startled "Oh!" noise at this and sat down quietly. "Ryan's formula and diapers are--" He turned to Sam, scratching at the stubble on his chin. "Sam, what'd you do with the bag?"

"Dean, I think Angela can figure things out for herself," Sam rolled his eyes.

"Thank you, Sam," Angela gave him a smile and a pat on the arm. "I raised two of my own, Dean, and it wasn't so long ago that I'd forget."

John took in Dean's flustered look and took mercy on him.

"Come on, guys, time to go. Orrin's going to be here any minute, and I want to take a look at your car, Dean." He walked over to Angela, passed Ryan into her arms, and bent down to kiss her. As the kiss went on, Sam cleared his throat and Dean gagged, until John pulled away from Angela and grabbed his jacket. "Okay, okay, we're going." They waved goodbye to the kids and Angela, and headed out to the parking lot.


End file.
